pause

Every time we saw something pretty from the car as we rolled down dirt roads and over gravel and rocks, Staley, Jess, and I - all squished together in the backseat, would yell, "Pause!" until Zander came to a screeching halt - all of us thrown forward then back. I'd roll down the window and stick my camera out to capture the scene, Zan accelerating and breaking, stop-and-go, Jess retorting, "Now back an inch! You missed it - forward an inch!" And the pictures were so bad - a fence was always in the way, or shrubbery through which, far beyond, we could catch a glimpse of the mountains. Or, as Brian, from Wyoming scoffed, "More like foothills!"

At Stone Tower Winery, we were tipsier from our laughter - that point you get to when no matter what anyone says, clever or completely mundane, it's hysterical. That rhythm, that banter, it's the stuff. It's the bee's knees. It's addictive. And as our taster finished our tasting, she teased us with the soon-to-be-released 2013 Rose. She brought out the bottle, but no! She couldn't open it for us to taste; it's for members only. Zan and I bolted to the front of the tasting room, nearly tripping over each other, grabbing a membership form, and battling over whose name would be on it. Our spanking new membership came with not one tasting but five of that Rose, and three bottles of it to go.

It was the best Rose, the best wine, any of us have ever tasted. It was the taste of exclusivity, and the taste of rays of sun warming the breeze, and the taste of a perfect day spent celebrating a birthday to remember.

Pause. 

a fanciful day at zephaniah farm vineyard

On a government form that vineyard owners must complete, it asks for the "fanciful name" of your wine, explained Bonnie, owner of Zephaniah Farm Vineyards and wife to the winemaker, as she poured our group a taste of the Three Captains Red.

The fanciful name has a family history: three of the men in the family-owned vineyard have been Captains. Then again, everything at Zephaniah is all in the family. From the family members who help with harvesting to the ones who pour tastings, running the tasting room and vineyard at Zephaniah Farm is a family affair.

Zan and I convinced our friends (and my colleagues) Jess and Staley - and Staley's husband Brian, to come out to a few Leesburg wineries with us this past Saturday to celebrate Jess's birthday. Our first stop was Zephaniah, a new to us winery, and one that we'll be frequenting. It was Jess's first time wine tasting, and Zephaniah might have ruined her. I think it ruined us all!

In addition to the family feeling that made us feel so welcomed, the tasting room is housed in Bonnie and Bill's home (her husband), a house to which she recently found a deed tucked away in a corner drawer from 1818. Bill grew up in the home, and as we all picnicked outside in the garden, a loft barn and vines in our periphery, we wondered aloud, how incredible to grow up here?

The old house is stunning. The owners live upstairs and have converted the entire downstairs into tasting areas. Instead of a typical tasting 'bar,' every single wine tasting is seated - in the library, a former guest room converted into a dining area, or in the larger living room. We were seated in the dining room, a private table that seats 7-8, filled only with our five seats.

The tasting is unlike any other I've experienced. Bonnie started off by saying that she would not be describing the wines for us, and no sense in reading the tasting sheet - leading tasting notes weren't there, either. In her natural, good-natured way, she noted that even she and her husband have vastly different palates, so how could they possibly agree on what notes and flavors are present in each wine? At Zephaniah, they encourage each guest to define the wine themselves, to savor each and pick out what scents are on the nose and tastes are on the body for themselves. We had a great time doing this, and in the process I realized how heavily I rely on written and verbal descriptions to encourage me to smell and taste what I do. In the six-wine tasting, I learned to trust my palate more than in all the wineries I've been to before.

And the wines... are spectacular. All five of us enjoyed nearly every single one, with a few clear-cut winners at our table. The 2012 Rose, a blend of Cabernet Franc and Chambourcin, and made in the classic French style, is dry and crisp, with a hint of oak and enough body to hold up on its own or with food. We also collectively loved the 2010 Cabernet Franc, a perfect summer red that Bonnie suggested pairing with sauteed portobello mushrooms. (In fact, she mentioned at least 3 wonderful food pairings that had us all salivating and hoping for an invitation to dinner!)

Finally, we all somewhat surprisingly loved their Sangria. This sangria isn't your typical fruit-flooded, sweet concoction. This sangria is made with the Three Captains Red blend and tastes like wine. It's a wonderful, deep red sangria that's only made fruity with citrus. Bobbie and Bill created the sangria when their son "married into a beer family." They needed a middle ground for the two parties at the wedding, which was held on the property.

Going out on a blind limb, Zander and I purchased a bottle of their 2012 Viognier. It wasn't available for tasting because there are only 3 cases left. Bonnie described it as dry and gave me a thumbs up that convinced me I have to try it. When we open it, I'll let y'all know how it is. I have a feeling I'll be running back to get more before those 3 cases are gone.

Speaking of food pairings and Viognier, Bonnie suggesting sauteeing shiitake mushrooms with olive oil and viognier and serving it over basmati rice. I'm not sure I will let any of this bottle go into that pan, but doesn't that sound divine?

We were so enamored of the wines, the relaxing experience, the property, and Bonnie and Bill themselves, that Zan and I asked if they have a wine club.

"No," Bonnie said, smiling at us. "I feel like I'm pouring wine and having fun, not trying to sell." 

stone tower winery is a great new addition to virginia wine

Stone Tower Winery produces two Chardonnays - Lacey and Lauren - named after the owners' daughters. Lacey likes Lauren's oaky, creamy chardonnay, and Lauren prefers Lacey's acidic, floral, lighter version. Stories like these are one of the many reasons that I love Virginia wine. The industry is still small enough that every winery visit feels like you're being invited into someone's home.

The winery is situated on Hogback Mountain - also home to a paintball field (though I didn't see it on the long, winding dirt road drive). The tasting room is in a large, beautiful old barn. I relished the small details. Names of wine varietals are painted on rocks from the property. The names of their wines and vintages are hand-painted on slabs of wood and hung tastefully around the tasting room. Photos from weddings held on the property show off the beauty of the landscape. And there's an equestrian theme that suits the old (but refurnished and modernized) barn - complete with riding hats on the banquet tables on the second floor. The ambiance is just as good - even on a wet and gray Saturday like this past one when we ventured out to Loudon County, Stone Cold Winery was warm, welcoming, and inviting.

Jeremy, a manager, poured our wine tasting. Jess, Zander, and I opted for the reserve tasting - and might I suggest you do the same? It's $15 for all of their current vintages and a few of their stellar older ones, as well (6 total). Jeremy and Jess talked shop while I snapped pictures and listened intently; wine tasting is serious business, and it's clear that Stone Tower prides themselves on making great wines.

We started off with a champagne-based sparkling wine, and I was "bubbling" over with happiness. It's rare to find sparkling wine at Virginia wineries, especially dry, crisp, citrusy ones. I loved it so much I ordered a glass to enjoy while we were there and bought a bottle to take home. When it came to the Chardonnays, Jess and I enjoyed the Lacey, and Zan enjoyed the Lauren more. Jess loved the 2012 Viognier. It has huge minerals and a very round mouth feel. I love Viognier, but this one kept taking me by surprise... I still can't decide if I liked it. Zan's favorite wine is their Sanglier Noble. It has a great nose of cherry, currants, baking spices - basically winter in a glass. I wanted to pair it with dark chocolate. To be honest, it lacked a little complexity on my palate, but Zander would beg to differ.

Stone Tower is new in the Virginia wine scene, and it's an incredibly welcome addition. I can't wait to get back when the air is a little warmer and the whole vineyard is ablaze with spring colors and enjoy a few more glasses of their sparkling wine.

the view is everything at delaplane cellars | virginia

I held my breath when I opened the email that would tell me where in Japan I would spend the next year of my life. When I knew I'd been accepted into the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program (JET), I filled out a paper asking for my requested areas. But heavily bolded type told me in no uncertain terms that I shouldn't expect actually to be placed in those areas. I'd requested Okinawa, Tokyo, and I think Osaka, maybe, I can't even remember now. All I knew when I clicked open that email is that I wanted to be in a large city, or I wouldn't go at all. I couldn't fathom the miserable existence that living rurally would be.

I opened the email, and there it was: Yamato, Hikari City, Yamaguchi, Japan.

An extensive google search finally yielded some information: it was more rural than western Nebraska, more country than Georgia, more rice fields than people.

It took a lot of thought and friends talking some sense into me to accept the placement and go. After all my stubbornness, it took me all of 5 minutes to be hopelessly, desperately enamored of Yamato, the tiny village that was my own. I loved Yamato so fiercely that Hikari felt huge to me. I'd trundle down the mountainside in my 4-door car that was bigger than the roads, and plop out onto the main highway through Hikari, and there were people and cars and shops and restaurants and a grocery store every which way. Hikari began to feel like a city to me. Hiroshima might have been Manhattan, and don't get me started on how actively I avoided Tokyo and Osaka.

In that year in Japan, I found myself gravitating towards the small places that don't get written up in guidebooks, the ones that feel like I found them all by myself and then could share them with the people who've spent their lives there. I valued the beauty of the countryside above urban skylines. I found myself peacefully at home in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

That love of rolling hills and rice fields and stunning landscapes has stayed with me these last three years in DC. And three years! I haven't lived somewhere this long since I was a child. DC is every bit home to me as Yamato was, but whereas I lived to travel and then return to Yamato, in DC I live to thrive in this city and then get the hell out of it.

That's why Virginia wineries appeal so much to me. That Virginia land, so lush and fertile and huge and rolling and expansive - it takes me back to a place in myself that is the most content and relaxed I've ever been.

A few weeks ago, Zander and I pulled up to Delaplane Cellars in Delaplane, Virginia, and I don't think I've been as awestruck at a rural view since the first time I stepped foot in Yamato. It took me 20 minutes to make my way from the car into the winery, situated atop a hill, because I couldn't stop snapping photos. The vines nearly touched the mountains beyond them, and the air hung gray and fit the scene just right, and a picture perfect white house posed for me.

Inside, floor-to-ceiling windows covered the modern tasting room. A wrap-around tasting bar was packed; it wasn't a surprise - Delaplane has made an impressive name for itself with an impressive array of wines. Betsy, one half of the couple that owns Delaplane, greeted us warmly. She offered us a taste of a few reserve wines, on top of the tasting we did. Williams Gap is a 2010 blend that is one of the top Virginia reds I've tasted. It's meant to be aged. Of the five wines on the tasting menu, we enjoyed (and purchased) the 2012 Rose, a French style rose that's a blend of Merlot, Cabernet Franc, and Cabernet Sauvignon. I got pear, a little strawberry, and a refreshing acidity on the finish. With no residual sugar, it was right up my alley. We also loved the 2011 Cinq3 - a blend of five red varieties. We stayed to take in the view and some live music with a glass of wine each, and I soaked it every second of being somewhere rustic and enchantingly beautiful.

I live for our treks out to wine country and escapes to Shenandoah National Park and road trips to Charlottesville. I breathe in that fresh mountain air and turn to Zander and say that if we're looking to buy a house, why not right here? Because unexpectedly, the middle of nowhere has become home to me.

if you go...

Delaplane Cellars

boutique winery in Delaplane, Virginia

Tasting fee: $7

tip:  i first tried delaplane's wine (a viognier) at al dente; it is currently sold out --if you can find it, it's spectacular! 

i'd rather be at marterella winery | virginia

I told them it looked like a country club when we pulled up. Zander asked if I'd ever seen a country club, and Matt asked me, too, and Ryan, well, I think he'd gone off to have a smoke, but he probably would have concurred with the others. "Because," Matt finished for Zander. "This looks nothing like a country club."

I tried to keep explaining what I meant, in that rambling way I do sometimes - when I have a point and it's buried somewhere, but I can't find the words to spit it on out. For a writer, it's a real problem to have. I said that it was the manicured lawns that made me think that, and didn't they agree? Had they ever seen a lawn so well-manicured that wasn't at a country club?

They looked at each other and back at me and shrugged and left me standing in the vines, lost in my thoughts. The sun was doing that thing where it shined so bright it put a haze on every picture, and I kept taking them anyway because it's one of my favorite filters. And I thought more about this country club conundrum.

I thought of my lawn at 465 Freestone Drive, my childhood house, the home I had from years 6-21, the address that I put as "permanent" when my school address and internship addresses were nothing but fleeting. That lawn was always messy, and it was always a toss-up who would mow it, about two weeks after it first needed to be mowed. My mom on the riding lawn mower, her big, thick, curly hair going everywhere and a smile that is bigger than everything in life playing on her face - it's so funny that she fought mowing because I think she lived for the power of that motor under her control. My brother with a standing mower when the riding one broke down, headphones in his ears, and hair longer than the trendiest cut. And when the headphones weren't in, his best friend Andy sometimes walked along beside him, and they had conversations over the sound of the mower, and I don't know how they did that, but they circled the yard like that, talking the lawn into neat rows, sweat dripping from their foreheads to the blades below them, growing them again.

I've always liked things a little messy and a little un-put together. I used to ask my mom when she would worry and get anxious over new people or family coming over to 465 for dinner, "Why does it need to be clean? This looks like it's lived in. Isn't that better?"

I laughed myself out of my thoughts - and have you ever done that, think so hard and get lost so hard in another place and another date, and you laugh like you're back there in that moment, and then you're in the present, standing in a row of vines in front of a well-manicured lawn laughing? I must have looked crazy, but I didn't bother to see who noticed.

I walked into the tasting room, where the guys had glasses and a fourth was sitting for me. An '80s punk rocker congenially welcomed me and asked all our names, and she became our friend for a half hour. Her outfit was a Halloween costume, and the rest of the staff was dressed up, too. The owner came by and personally said hello. And the winery there at Marterella is situated on well-manicured grounds, but it's in an old house with live music played just a little too loud and tastings are poured from a functioning kitchen not unlike the one at 465, and it's small and personable and produces a modest number of cases of wonderful reds, and it feels lived in and homey, and that is better than perfectly put-together.

We sat outside with cheese and sausage and big glasses of Merlot in that hazy bright sunshine, and a golden retriever fetched us a ball. Later, the guys jokingly asked if I wanted to see pictures of a real country club.

I never live these things down.

if you go...

Marterella Winery

off rt 15 (from 66) in Warrenton, after Manasses and before Sperryville

red & white tasting flight: $15

my wine picks: Sangiovese, Merlot

miniature horses and sangria at aspen dale winery | virginia

As I was uploading photos for this post, an odd memory came back to me. It was one of those memories that flashes by and then is gone, and you have to go searching for it in the twists and turns and ridges in your brain. The most I can make of it is the distinct memory of a small round horse riding arena, the smell of dung and hay and that absolutely unique scent of horse that's a mixture of the outdoors and fresh air and wildness. I remember riding the horses, trotting around the arena slowly, getting used to the saddle beneath me and wishing I were riding bareback. I mean it with as little euphemism as possible when I say I've always been the sort of woman who prefers riding bareback.

What I can't remember is exactly where I was or with what friend. I can pull from the annals of time that I had this friend for a short time, and maybe we weren't so close, and I can see her mom carrying a baby out of an old house with peeling wood, and my mom went in after her to stay for a while and say hello. The friend's name might have been Katie, but I can't be positive.

I've ridden other horses over the years and found always that I'd prefer no saddle and that I'm quite possibly allergic to the animals, and that there's a fearlessness and wild abandon in me that gets the horse, but also that I find riding kind of boring, if truth be told. Most of the times I have ridden have been on trails that I'd rather be hiking. But they're beautiful animals, that for some strange reason are always the cause of excitement when people see them.

Have you ever noticed that? From the horse-drawn carriages in Central Park to officers patrolling on horseback to actually visiting a stable, people get very excited to see horses. I think it's a combination of the paradox of their large size and typically gentle nature and their romanticized role in America's entire history. Really, the only thing more exciting than seeing a full grown horse is seeing a miniature one. 

There are a lot of horses and a few miniature horses at Aspen Dale Winery at the Barn, another stunning, rustic Virginia winery that I'd like to call home. On the same gray day that Zander and I visited Linden Vineyards, where we met vintner Jim Law, we also visited Aspen Dale, known for its hominess, coziness, and barn animals.

Walking into Aspen Dale, my gaze immediately turned upward to the loft situated above the main floor, accessed by a spiral staircase. The very thought of a loft makes me crave thick socks, a long novel, and a steaming mug. In a winery, the association of comfort persists but with a touch of romance, intimacy, and lingering conversations.

When I finally pulled myself away from the loft, I saddled up to the tasting bar. We were handed our glasses and a plate each of small tasting bites. I love when wineries do standard wine tastings with food pairings (it also happens at Fabbiolo Cellars). It's a particularly smart choice for Aspen Dale, where I think the food makes the wines shine a little brighter than they would on their own.

We tasted six wines, with a few there were notable. In particular, the 2009 Rockawalkin' is a dry, earthy, peppery Cabernet Sauvignon that was okay on its own but came alive paired with dark chocolate. When I hear "dessert wine" I cringe, and Aspen Dale changed my preconceived notions with this one. Typically, dessert wines are sweet - like ports, some reislings, and ice wine - but a dry red with the right earth tones pulls out the bitterness and seductiveness of a piece of dark chocolate. I wanted to drink this wine and indulge in chocolate covered cherries or strawberries late into the night.

My other favorite was completely unexpected - Sangria! I've never seen bottled Sangria at a winery, but you know what? It works for them. It's also delicious. The tasting staff openly admitted to us that it was from a rough harvest, and they experimented with it, coming up with a top-secret recipe. They started offering it to customers, and it took off. It's selling like crazy. It reinforced the wine truth that the whole business of tasting and drinking and enjoying wine is individual and subjective. If you like it, go for it.

So I did. I bought a bottle that I can't wait to open.

They're so smart with their food pairings, too, that when Zan  and I ordered a glass each to enjoy on the grounds, we also ordered a food plate with more of what we sampled.

While sipping my wine, I wandered around the extensive grounds that lead back to a functioning barn. I was the only one milling around the wet grass on the gray day, and I liked it like that. It was just me and the horses. I was quickly enamored with the view - fog settled in over the mountains in the distance in one direction, and vines stretching endlessly in another.

The miniature horses of course stole my heart. I joked that I had met Li'l Sebastian from Parks and Recreation.

Aspen Dale Winery is the kind of place I want to settle into, a glass of wine in one hand, listening to the crackle of flames in the fireplace, a live guitar player singing the blues, knowing there's a bit of wild right outside the back door. That's the kind of memory I can hold onto.

if you go...

Aspen Dale Winery at the Barn 

located off rt-66 in delaplane, virginia

tasting with food pairing: $8 (with glass $10.50)

if you plan to go with a group of 8 or more, make a reservation by emailing reservations@aspendalewinery.com

tasting the best of virginia wine at linden vineyards

The hours between a rain storm and before the sun shines again, when the temperature hovers around chilly and the grass is a little greener and the fluttering fall leaves are a little more pronounced in their new colorful shades, has become my favorite time to go wine tasting. A gray day pairs perfectly with a glass of wine, I've found.

A week or two ago when it rained for four days straight in DC, a cloudy Saturday felt like a respite and an opportunity to trade the couch for a trip out to wine country in Virginia. We headed to Delaplane, Virginia, barely more than an hour from DC, and home to a handful of great wineries that we hadn't been to yet.

We navigated the winding gravel drive to Linden Vineyards first, mountains behind us cloaked in fog. The vines angle upward along steep hills, and we'd come to later learn from Jim Law, winemaker, that for certain grapes, it aids in the process.

The winery is housed in a beautiful old barn, refurbished and renovated for modern necessities, while maintaining much of its rustic charm. The view looks out over the vines and mountains and a pond alongside a stunning Weeping Willow tree. The tasting room is open to the public, but the vineyard's deck and lounge are reserved for wine club members; a true perk of joining but a disappointment to many who would stay and purchase a glass or drink a bottle, if they could.

There are two tasting options: the standard with five of their wines and a cellar tasting, featuring reserves. We opted for the introductory tasting but were generously offered tastings of many reserves, as well as industry discounts on bottles we purchased. In total we tried nine wines, and we quickly realized why Linden is recognized as being one of the top-notch Virginia wineries. Complex, deep, aged wines delighted us from start to finish.

Linden's wines are made in an old world style, many exhibiting notes of minerality, earth tones, and acidity. The 2010 single-varietal Petit Verdot captured our attention with blackberry and herbal notes and a medium tannin finish. It's a rustic, mildly spicy wine that would be perfect right alongside turkey and greens on a Thanksgiving table.

My other favorite standouts are the 2009 Hardscrabble, a 64% Cabernet Sauvignon blend that's still considered young. We bought this bottle and plan to age it for the next 5 years or so. And the 2012 Rose is light and fruity on the nose with spicy undertones, and so very dry. I'd love to wait to open it until the first warm days next year, but I don't think I can wait long.

Jim Law walked into the winery in the middle of our tasting, clad in mud-and-rain covered boots straight from the vineyards, where he was busy managing and working this year's harvest. He took the time to talk to Zander and me about grape-picking, and vines that have done well this year and ones that haven't (it has been a wet year). He has been interviewed and profiled numerous times, and his talent is first-rate. He's a vintner in the truest sense, his mind and craft focused on terroir and the science of growing grapes.

Linden was kind enough to allow us to enjoy the perks of being a member for the day, and we sat and chatted and drank wine in their lounge, watching Law and other harvesters move from row to row and vine to vine picking grapes that will undoubtedly turn into some of the best wine in Virginia.

if you go...

Linden Vineyards

located off rt. 66 near delaplane, virginia

tasting fee: $5 standard; $20 cellar

read more about Linden & Jim Law in Forbes

wine tasting in niagara on the lake | canada

When I lived in Japan, I got asked frequently, "What are your hobbies?" My students asked me, and my colleagues asked me, and eventually - even my fellow English-speaking friends started to ask me because when you hear a phrase or question that sounds strange at first often enough, it becomes normal, and you, too, adopt it into your jargon. I always stammered and paused. I could have produced a quicker answer if asked my thoughts on metaphysics, and that's pretty nuts since I absolutely couldn't begin to tell you what metaphysics even is (my best guess: being terribly self-aware of one's existence as a block of matter).

Looking back now, I struggled to answer because I'm not sure I really had any developed hobbies. I had interests and likes but none that I'd explored so in-depth as to really give it the high praise of a hobby. I think what makes a hobby a real hobby is your investment of time and energy in becoming good at it - learning as much as possible not because you need the information to pass a test or do well at your job but because you can't get enough of it and you love learning about it.

Now, several years later, I have occasional moments when a silly little part of me wants to go back to Japan for the sole purpose of being totally and completely prepared to answer that question. And since you're dying to know... my hobbies include hiking, blogging, researching and planning international trips, writing, photography, baking, eating carbs, following gymnastics, and wine. Any of you who read my blog (and thank you for that!) could have told me that list, but it was some kind of bizarre self-realization when I realized that I have hobbies - real hobbies!

I took my wine hobby to the next level when Zander and I visited Niagara on the Lake, a beautiful town situated about 25 minutes outside of Niagara Falls, Canada. Almost 30 wineries dot the periphery of Niagara on the Lake, ranging from behemoth producers whose wines can be found all over the country to boutiques where I felt right at home. On our day trip to the town, we managed to visit six wineries - an incredible feat that left me guzzling water for the next several days.

I've done a lot of wine tasting and learning in Virginia wine country, but it wasn't until I stretched my wings a little and tasted another region's specialties that I got enough perspective to see all the knowledge I've acquired along the way. I tasted with confidence in Niagara on the Lake, picking out floral and fruit and savory notes that I didn't know I'd come to recognize. I had preconceptions stripped away: I'd come to think of Reisling and Gewürztraminer wines as traditionally sweet, but when those grapes are grown in cooler climates, where they do exceedingly well, they produce some incredibly varied, complex, dry wines that are really delicious. At Strewn Winery, we indulged in an entire tasting of these two varietals, moving from off-dry to bone dry.

I've never developed a taste for Port, the sweet dessert wine, so I anticipated disliking Ice Wine, another style of dessert wine made from grapes frozen on the vine and a specialty of the Niagara region. I found, instead, that I like it very much, in small sips. We tasted a sparkling ice wine at Inniskillin Wines, the go-to Niagara winery for ice wine, and even the gigantic $120 price tag couldn't keep us from buying a bottle to keep for a special occasion. 

Konzelmann Winery & Estate, situated on the banks of the lake, reminded me of a large Bavarian cottage. Zander said I might be crazy so clearly architecture is not a hobby of mine. The winery offered more than a stunning view and questionable architectural influences - it introduced me to Baco Noir, a red hybrid grape (hybrid of French & North American grapes) that, again, does well in cooler climates like Niagara and Oregon. It's a traditionally medium-bodied, approachable wine. Zander went nuts over it and bought several bottles. 

At Reif Estate Winery, we tasted a fruity, dry $10 Vidal that left us wanting more, so we bought 2 bottles to take home. Wines like that Vidal, that Zan and I drank just the other night while casually watching a TV show at midnight on a Friday, are part of the reason why I love wine so much - it doesn't need to be pretentious or over the top - a $10 bottle of wine can be just as enjoyable and perfect for an occasion as a pricey, full-bodied one can. 

My favorite of the Niagara on the Lake wineries we visited, Marynissen Estates is a small, unassuming boutique with pedigree you wouldn't expect - winning prestigious awards for Reislings, Chardonnay's, and Grape Grower of the Year multiple times over. Marynissen has the oldest planting of Cabernet Sauvignon in Canada. The maturity of the grapes is evident in the body of the wines - particularly their Syrah and Cab Sauv blends. We left with bottles from damn near their entire flight of tasting wines, and they were kind enough to offer us vintage reserves to taste, as well.

The final winery - which was actually our first stop - was Trius Winery, where we enjoyed a brunch with wine pairing that I still can't get out of my head, it was that delicious. Since our visit to Trius, I've been scouring the Virginia wine events list for a similar offering for brunch, lunch, or dinner. Those kinds of pairings are expensive but absolutely worth it.

So now that I've talked for oh so long about one of mine, tell me, what are your hobbies?

red hook winery might be brooklyn's best kept secret

When I was six, I begged my mom to take me to church. We'd just moved to Newnan, Georgia, and all the new friends I'd made went to church. All of them. But we didn't. My mom didn't seem too keen on the idea. My brother joined the begging, too. We didn't beg like normal kids, though - with "please, please, please" pleading. We were calculated. We listed reasons it would serve our emotional growth and help us adjust to life in a brand new city. We made moral arguments. We went as far as to convince Mom that she, too, needed friends and what better place to make them than in God's House? 

We tried out a Catholic church, and it was the actual worst. My Mom was raised Catholic, so it was a natural first attempt for her. We were forced to dress up, and there wasn't a kid's oriented class so we suffered through what I suppose was a Mass? I don't know - ever since I nearly died of boredom that day, I've subconsciously blocked out Catholicism entirely. 

The second try was a charm. My brother's buddy Joseph said we had to try Crossroads, a laid back place of worship that was fun. (Our friends really had us convinced that church was practically a dance club it was so cool. Peer pressure is very weird in Southern Baptist Georgia.)

The next Sunday, we drove less than a mile from our house and turned left down a quarter mile dirt and gravel road. As we wound through a lane of trees, a concrete warehouse came into view. Surely we were lost. We looked for an address or a sign on the gray building. It wasn't until we hit a makeshift parking lot and saw smiling faces on dressed down in jeans church-goers that we knew we were right at home. 

Fast forward 22 years later (holy shit when did I age that fast?), and I experienced the same wholly happy and perfectly-at-home feeling when Zan's, Andy's, and my cab turned down a street that started off Brooklyn chic and dead-ended into warehouses, small urban gardens, a grungy pier, and makeshift signs with giant arrows pointing to various small businesses.We'd found our way - a no easy feat - to Red Hook, Brooklyn, home of Red Hook Winery, my new religion in this very strange church-winery comparison. 

Zan has been an urban winery enthusiast for some time now. He's such a big city guy - down to his very core - and sees the genius in bringing grapes and wine-making to concrete patches and small garden swaths. After taking in Red Hook Winery - located on a pier in an old warehouse, I fully agree. While the winery grows its grapes in Long Island, wine-making happens on the premise. The open space feels like a loft with urban chic influences, tons of cork, and a barrel room in plain sight. The wines are reminiscent of the Finger Lakes and even the ones we tasted in Niagara - regions where cold-weather grapes do well. 

Red Hook opened in 2008 and has cultivated a loyal following. Two Napa wine makers run the show - Abe Schoener and Robert Foley, both really interested in eclectic, unique wines. But they don't run it in tandem... instead, each makes his own wines with separate labels. It's like two wineries in one. It'd be so rad to be trained and experienced enough to do a blind tasting and be able to pick their wines apart - is that just me? 

I thoroughly enjoyed the Reserve Tasting of 6 wines. It was laid back - just the three of us with the general manager and one of the wine-makers coming in and out telling us tidbits about one wine or another. After, we wanted to continue to enjoy the view and the day on their comfortable pillows and couches with a full glass, but they aren't allowed to serve full pours, only tasting. It's interesting - and a bit strange. But they are generous about allowing you to re-taste wines until you figure out just the ones you might want to purchase.

The entire Red Hook neighborhood experienced significant damage from Hurricane Sandy over a year ago. Impressively, the entire place felt rejuvenated, nearly completely rebuilt, and ready to keep growing. We wandered into a handmade chocolate shop and distillery, where tours are offered, and tastings are up for grabs. After, we grabbed sandwiches at Defontes, one of Brooklyn's best. 

Industrial neighborhoods with character and style get me every time- from a warehouse church when I was 6 to Red Hook - Brooklyn's best kept secret. 

if you go...

red hook winery

regular tasting: $5 (3 wines)

reserve tasting: $12 (6 wines)

my pick: 2010 seneca reisling (dry, fruity nose, complex)

get there: ikea ferry from manhattan

cab, bike, or bus B61 from brooklyn heights/downtown brooklyn